


The Only Exception

by Elle Blessingway (elle_blessing)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fic Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-26
Updated: 2010-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_blessing/pseuds/Elle%20Blessingway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Draco and Ginny had been friends before they knew they weren’t supposed to be?  What if they were each other’s only exception to the rule?  The far-reaching consequences of such fateful moments and choices would truly change everything expected of a Malfoy and a Weasley.  Wouldn’t it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [2010 Draco/Ginny Fic Exchange](http://community.livejournal.com/dgficexchange/166823.html) over at the dgficexchange on LiveJournal.

 

_**11 February 1987, 12:32 P.M.**  
Draco Malfoy - Age 6 | Ginny Weasley - Age 5_

 

"Papa, are we lunching yet?" Ginny tugged on Arthur Weasley's faded jacket insistently. Her tummy was grumbling and the shop they were in smelled of musty books. The ones her papa was looking at only had words, though, and so she was Not Interested at all. Pictures were best. "You said it was lunch time, remember?"

Nose buried deep in _Muggle Tub-Stoppers & Other Such Oddities_, Arthur's voice was rather distant when he replied. "Not too long now, Ginnybean. Papa needs to know something for work and we can't bring this book with us."

Ginny's nose crinkled. She didn't really understand why they couldn't just take it with them, but her papa always seemed very sad when he said that they couldn't, and that he couldn't get her ice cream, either. She didn't like seeing him sad. It made her sad, too.

Sighing, she wandered off towards another aisle, eyes lighting when she saw a picture book lying open on the floor. Tiny fingers were reverent as she turned the pages, enchanted by the beautiful moving pictures. None of her books at home were nearly so pretty and new, and only a very few had _colored_ pictures.

"What's that you've got?"

Ginny glanced up to see a boy looking between her and the book she was so enraptured by. He looked very different than her brothers, indeed, with his light, light hair. "Ron and Fred and George all have dragonpox and Mummy thought I should go to work with Papa, but he wanted to look at books 'cause its lunch and I like unicorns. Do you like unicorns? See, look here," she said, holding out her picture book, "they're quite pretty, huh?"

Draco didn't much care about unicorns. They were for girls. He'd much rather look at a book about dragons. His expression was turned into one of haughty confusion as he tipped his head at her. "Did you know your shoes are scuffed? Father says only paupers have scuffed shoes. Are you a pauper?"

The book was quite forgotten as Ginny looked down at her shoes. They looked the same as when she'd gotten them. Glancing back up at him, she asked, "What's a pauper?"

Draco made a sound as if she was rather dim even though he wasn't really sure the answer to the question. But Father said it, so it must be true.

"Someone with scuffed shoes," he said as if it was rather obvious. "Come on, pauper. We should fix it," he informed her before snatching the hand not holding a book and tugging her towards the front of shoppe.

Surprised at first, Ginny tried to stop him, but then her curiousness got the better of her and she set the unicorn book down on a table as they passed. "If I'm a pauper, what does that make you?" she asked, little legs trotting a bit to keep up. "A ponce? That's what Fred and George call Percy and he doesn't like scuffs either."

"Certainly not," he informed her imperiously, rather pleased with his word choice. He wasn't entirely sure he'd used it properly, but Father would be proud. He _sounded_ like he knew what he was about. "I'm a Malfoy."

"Are you sure that's not a ponce?"

"Very sure."

"Hmm. Well, then I'm a Weasley."

"Weasley then," he said, mercury gaze darting about as they reached the door. Father wouldn't necessarily want him to leave, but he was a little man, like Mother said, and he was quite sure he was big enough to fix the Weasley scuffs. "Hurry up, before we get caught."

A flashing grin lit Ginny's features. Fred and George said that _all_ the time, and it _always_ meant something fun. Squeezing his hand in excitement, Ginny scurried after him as they snuck out, the bell ringing merrily at _Flourish & Blotts_ as they made their escape.

 

_**15 March 1987, 3:37 P.M.**  
Draco Malfoy - Age 6 | Ginny Weasley - Age 5_

 

Ginny's legs swung and she hummed quietly to herself. Canny brown eyes watched Arthur's brow begin to knit. _Almost there_.

The frown that signaled Total Concentration fully overtook her papa's face and Ginny grinned in triumph.

"Hmm?" The ginger man stirred.

Her eyes widened and she started humming again. Only when he ruffled and then settled back into whatever Muggle conundrum was currently holding his attention did she relax again. She knew better. Fred and George had taught her all the right tricks for sneaking.

She hummed for several more minutes that seemed like forever and a day, the sound getting quieter and quieter until it disappeared all-together. She watched him, waiting, but when Arthur didn't stir, triumph filled her and she scooted to the edge of the chair and carefully let herself down.

Ginny kept a wary eye on the open door she'd just snuck out of, taking careful, silent steps backwards.

"You're not at all sneaky, you know."

Ginny's eyes widened as she spun and slapped her hand over Draco's mouth. " _Shhh!_ "

Draco glared at her and pulled her hand from his face. "I'll do what I please, Wealsey."

Ginny glared back at him, but instead of answering grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall at a run. It was several corners later that they collapsed into a heap. It was hard to tell which hand was pulling at ginger hair and which was throwing a punch as the two children rolled on the floor. The indignant call of " _YOU BIT ME!_ " was shushed, tinkling giggles chasing right after.

"You bit me," Draco said again as he stared incredulously at his hand.

"You pulled my hair," Ginny said as if that explained everything, rather smug indeed.

"Because you hit me."

"Because you're a ponce. Like Percy. You wouldn't shush."

"Malfoy's _don't shush_." He glared at her, very tempted to wrestle her to the floor again. Part of him was thrilled by this. Pansy didn't like to do anything but 'play tea', and Greg and Vincent were dead boring. They did whatever he said. It was fun sometimes, but only for a little while.

"Well, that's why I bit you. It worked, didn't it? You shushed. Kind of." Ginny's nose crinkled as she really thought about it. "Actually you screamed a bit like a girl."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Not."

"Uh huh. You sounded like Percy when Fred flushes the loo while he's showering."

Draco wasn't sure what to make of this. Ginny talked of her brothers every time they saw each other at the Ministry, but he still wasn't sure which was which. Except that the Percy one was poncy. Percy the Ponce.

He sniffed. "I'm not going to give you what I brought."

Ginny's eyes lit. "What is it, huh? Can I have it now?"

Draco's lips curled into a sly smile. He knew how to play this game. He was very good at having things that others wanted. "Only if you take it back."

"Hmph." Ginny eyed him sourly. Draco wasn't like any of her brothers really, but it was sure fun when he got all prickly about it. "I bet it's not even worth it."

"Is too." Draco glared at her. "It's too good for you, even. Father says Weasleys are not worth anything at all."

"Well, of course we are," Ginny said, confusion tinting her expression moments later. "What does that mean?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. Father says it though."

He shifted from his sprawl on the floor then and dug in his trouser pocket. "Here, I brought you something. I found it in Mother's jewelry box. She won't miss it," he said as he held a charm out to her. "Malfoy Mums have way too many things to really miss just one."

This idea of having so many things that you wouldn't miss if one was gone was very foreign to Ginny, but she didn't say anything. Mostly because her eyes were just a little bit wide as she picked up the tiny unicorn charm from Draco's palm.

"It's pretty," she said reverently, little child's fingers very careful as she turned it about, delighted when the jeweled eye sparkled in the light.

Draco was very, very pleased indeed. She would like him best of all now, he was sure of it.

"Draco!"

Two sets eyes widened and they both scrambled up to their feet. They'd played many times in the Ministry since sneaking away from the bookstore, now, but neither had forgotten the pinched look to Lucius' face when he'd found them.

" _Draco Abraxas Malfoy_!"

"I'vegottago," he said in a rush before racing past her. He didn't want Father to find him with Ginny again. Lucius had said he should never talk to her and that she was 'beneath' them, spawn of a blood traitor. He still wasn't sure what all that meant, but he did know it wasn't good. He liked Ginny though, best of all his friends. She would just have to be his secret friend.

He turned and waved before darting around the corner.

Ginny was still blinking after him, but when he waved, her face lit in a smile and she raised her hand so high in a wave back that she was on her very tip-toes.

She watched the corner for several long moments to see if he'd reappear, but when he didn't, she opened her fisted hand to look at the charm he'd given her. It was too shiny by far not to attract everyone's attention. No one in her family had anything half so nice. She would have to keep it a secret. Just like Draco, she realized. Papa had told her that he wasn't a good person to try to be friends with when she'd told him about their first adventure to fix her scuffs.

But she was good at keeping secrets. Fred and George had made sure of it since they used her to prank Ron. A bright, sudden smile flashed across her face as she recalled their last prank on Ron and the way he'd turned red as turnip.

Giggling to herself, Ginny stuffed the charm into her pocket and raced back towards Arthur's office.

 

_**5 September 1992, 8:29 P.M.**  
Draco Malfoy - Age 12 | Ginny Weasley - Age 11_

 

Ginny clutched the expensive bit of parchment tightly in her hand as she stalked towards the Astronomy Tower.

She was still _so mad_. Draco had called her _Harry's girlfriend_ in front of _everyone_. And he'd mocked her family. Tom had told her to put it from her mind, but Ginny hadn't had any success. She wasn't even sure she should be listening to a book, anyway. She was fairly certain books weren't really supposed to talk back, but it was so novel to have someone who listened that wasn't a brother that she'd rather thought to keep it to herself.

That she had a lovely, suspicious book to rant all her feelings to didn't help that she still _had_ the feelings and that she was still _quite_ angry. And hurt.

"Ginny, over here."

"Don't you 'over here' me, Malfoy," she bit out as she turned sharply, braids swinging, and stalked towards him. "I shouldn't have even come up here. You don't deserve it. Ponce? It's too nice for you. You're a slimy, dung eating _git_ ," she spat, little hand swiping so fast at his cheek that both of them were a little surprised when it was all over.

"That ... kind of hurt," he said indignantly as he touched the reddened skin gently with a few fingers.

"Good." She huffed, not at all sorry though she hadn't planned on slapping him. It had just happened. "You deserve to hurt." She didn't add that he deserved what he'd dished out. She didn't want him to know that his words at _Flourish & Blotts_ had hurt.

Draco glared right back at her. It had been a long time since they'd tumbled about in the Ministry having adventures. A lot had happened between then and now. He'd learned what a pauper was, and that she was, in fact, one of them. He'd learned all the varied reasons why her family was beneath his. He'd learned to _hate_ her brother and Harry Potter, both of whom had made a fool of him. He had learned that it was more imperative than ever that Ginny was a _secret_.

He'd learned that he still liked her best of all because she slapped him and wrestled him and told him exactly what she thought. No one else did that.

"You know we're supposed to hate each other now."

"I know. Ron and Harry both loathe you. Even the twins think you're a bit of a git." She sighed. It was easy when they were little, just not saying anything about Draco, but listening to her brothers and Harry spit words out about him had made her upset. They didn't _know_ him like she did. But then, she couldn't really say that she knew him at all. She wasn't supposed to.

She frowned and looked at the floor, kicking at the stone. "You make it pretty easy to hate you when you say such horrid things."

"You're the one that called me a slimy, dung-eating git," he pointed out, lips turning up slightly even as he said it. "That was rather good, actually. Creative. You might even have the run on Pansy. She's pretty inventive too."

"Pansy?" Ginny's gaze rose and something else inside, something a little darker and slightly uncomfortable.

"Oh, just a girl in my house." He shrugged. "Look, I've got something for you, but then I have to go. Curfew's anytime now and I don't want to lose points." Draco glowered slightly as his thoughts turned to the Golden Three and how they _never_ had House Points taken away for breaking the rules. Not like everyone else.

Ginny watched him dig in his pocket and her brows rose when he held out a linked bracelet. "Why do you always get me things?" she asked, genuinely curious though she took the bracelet anyway and turned it about, eye catching at something dangling from one of the links.

"Because I can." It was true enough, but he didn't add that it was also because he liked to.

Her lips twitched into a tiny smile as she studied the paw print charm. It was bejeweled in gold and red.

"I thought you'd be in Gryffindor. Turned out I was right. Usually am," he said, more pleased than he would ever say at the unguarded happy look on her face.

"Ponce."

"Pauper."

She grinned and then pulled a leather necklace from beneath her shirt. "Here, help me put this one on?" she asked as she held out the unicorn charm tied on the leather twine.

Draco was just a little bit appalled that the silver and diamond charm was on such a ghastly piece of string, but didn't say anything as he carefully untied it and then said the spell he'd used to put the other charm on her bracelet. When it was all said and done, the charms chimed as they hit each other when he handed it back to her.

"This still has to be a secret," he said as he watched her clip it on her wrist.

"I know." She took a moment to admire the silver, sparkly thing on her wrist before pulling her sleeve down over it and looking back up at him. "I'm ashamed of you anyway. It's better this way."

She couldn't quite hold in the grin wanting out at his peeved expression and moments later caught his arm with hers and pulled him back towards the stairwell leading down. "Thanks," she whispered.

 

_**6 June 1994, 5:22 P.M.** _   
_Draco Malfoy - Age 14 | Ginny Weasley - Age 12_

 

He already knew he wasn't going to like what she had to say, but Draco didn't tell her to leave him. "Just spit it out already, Weasley."

Ginny eyed him. "Come on then, you know my first name. Just like you know you ought not have said what you did."

Silence stretched between them in the Hospital Wing and Ginny crossed her arms, quite willing to wait him out. It was a bit difficult not to smile though, as the slab of meat Madam Pomphrey had given him looked rather comical pressed to the side of his face.

Draco glared.

Ginny glared back.

"You're an evil bint, you know that?"

"It's one of my better qualities."

"That's the truth." He was buoyed by the pique that lit her eyes at his agreement. "Ginny."

"Hmph."

"No matter what you say, or try to make me say, or want to hear, that bushy haired harpy is still a Mudblood. Just on principle. She's _violent_ ," he said, as if that explained everything. He even pulled the meat from his face to show her the vivid bruise high on his cheek as evidence.

"Next time you say that word, I'm giving you a matching one on the other side," she informed him. "And Madam Pomphrey isn't going to give you anything but a piece of meat for that, either."

"I hate you."

"I know." She patted him gently on the knee, her charm bracelet tinkling merrily. "It'll pass."

"I'm sorry," he said sullenly. A sly smirk curled his lips moments later though. "I'll make sure to never say it to her face again."

"I don't know how we ever became friends." Ginny's nose crinkled at him. He might not say it to her _face_ , but he would use that filth of a name out of earshot. She knew he was what he was, just as she was what she was. A Malfoy and a Weasley. Still, for a human being, he was appallingly rude.

"Because I'm benevolent and give you nice things, and you've greedy, grabby hands." Draco grinned then, not really able to help himself.

"Oomph." He frowned. "Ow."

"Ponce."

"That was uncalled for." He rubbed at the shoulder she'd punched. "I was only pointing out the obvious."

"And I was quite unable to help myself. You inspire violence." Ginny grinned at him sweetly before sliding off the chair across from his. She needed to go. Dinner was soon, and if she wasn't there she'd be missed.

"Don't say that again, okay?" she said, serious and solemn for the first time. "It makes her sad and then it makes me sad. She's my friend, you know."

" _I'm_ your friend," he said, glowering. He was her _first_ friend, not some little buck-tooth mongrel.

"And I'm yours. Just try to be less of a git. It'll make it easier on everyone." She gave him a cheeky smile before slipping out of the room.

Draco glared at the now-empty doorway and slapped the meat back on his face. It was such a demeaning thing - _meat_ \- but it did feel better.

She popped her head back in the room and flashed a brilliant smile. "Oh, and happy birthday."

Everyone else had lavished him with gifts. He'd thought Ginny had forgotten, and in the end, all she had for him was well wishes. "Weasley pauper," he grumbled to himself as he adjusted the meat against the bruise on his face.

He was rather pleased despite, though.

 

_**25 December 1994, 10:36 P.M.** _   
_Draco Malfoy - Age 14 | Ginny Weasley - Age 13_

 

"Longbottom's a blundering idiot."

The voice was bodiless, but Ginny would know the bored drawl anywhere. "And Pansy's a vapid, insipid, foul excuse for a human being," she shot back, ginger curls whipping against her cheek as she spun and stalked back towards Draco. She’d claimed fatigue as an excuse to leave the festivities after she’d noticed Draco and Pansy had disappeared from the Great Hall, but right this moment, Ginny was just _angry_.

She wasn't entirely sure why she was so very cross. There was absolutely no reason to be. She'd been one of the only Third Years present at the Yule Ball, Neville had been fun and actually getting to see the Weird Sisters play live was something she'd always secretly hoped for, but never expected in a million and one years.

Despite it all, she was uncomfortable and restless and she didn’t really know why. All she _did_ know was that glaring at Draco was viscerally very satisfying. She imagined slapping him would be too, but she didn't have any reason just yet. "Her dress was horrid, she sounds like a whiny crup and I don't know how you can stand to be around her."

"I don't know how you can stand that idiotic oaf. Do you know how many times he's blown himself up in Potions?" Draco glared right back at her. He wanted to shake her. She was so _infuriating_. Sometimes he didn't know why even he bothered with her. Perhaps it was the fact that _not_ bothering was the worse of the two options and that only served to irritate Draco further. "You're lucky you made it through tonight in one piece."

Ginny's eyes narrowed, flicking to his mouth when something caught the meager moonlight in the empty hall. "Ah, that's why you put up with the bloody bint," she said, finger swiping at the glittered gloss coating his bottom lip. "She's easy."

Draco felt the flush warm his skin and was glad for the darkness to cover it up. Whether it was from anger or embarrassment, he wasn't sure. "Nothing more than what you gave Longbottom. Is that how you got him to ask you? So desperate to be there to see your _precious Potter_ , hmm? I bet you'd be even easier for him."

Angry tears pricked at Ginny and her fists clenched at her sides. "I haven't snogged _anyone_ you loathsome fool, _ever_." It was more than she'd meant to say and the embarrassment of her unwitting admission, of him _knowing_ she hadn’t ever snogged anyone, made the tears spill. "I don't know why you even care. What does any of this matter?" she asked, angrily wiping at the tears. "We shouldn't even be having this conversation. I'm supposed to hate you and you're supposed to hate me."

Remorse was a foreign feeling for Draco, but a lot of things he felt and said and did around Ginny since he'd met her when they were too young to know better, was foreign. That she doubted them ... he'd gone too far. He'd known even as the spiteful words had fallen from his lips that those things weren't something you said to someone who mattered. He just didn't ... he didn't have very many people that mattered.

Ginny did, though, and it'd made him tetchy watching her with Neville, watching someone else make her laugh. He'd not missed the idiot's hand on her waist, and Blaise's comments about how she wasn't half bad looking had only made him prickle further. Her dress was horrid, obviously used and several seasons out of date. _No one_ should see her looking anything other than ... he didn't know what. He just didn't like it.

That Pansy had proved a fleeting distraction was beside the point.

"Here," he said, voice sullen as he handed her a green silk kerchief. "Stop talking nonsense. We've never much been about what we're supposed to do. It’s not as if we’re to start now despite your questionable choices in company."

"Neville’s a perfect gentleman," she said, the words surly, but lacking the bite of several moments before as she snatched the embroidered silk from him.

Draco just raised a brow.

"I wanted to go the ball. He asked me, and he was a lovely dancer." She sniffed and glared at him again. "At least I didn't _choose_ a frilly pink poodle for _my_ date."

Draco's lips twitched. "She was something of an overdressed lapdog."

Ginny's mouth turned up slightly despite herself. And then she remembered that Draco had snogged Pansy and her features shuttered. That shouldn't matter, and yet for some reason it made her skin crawl. "I need to go."

Frustration thrummed through him. She was being such a ... _girl_. Draco knew she was one, of course, but she wasn't at all like Pansy or Daphne. Or Millicent, though whether she _was_ a girl was still up for debate.

Internally sighing, Draco began to dig in his robes. "I have to go as well. I came to give you this, though" he said, pulling a small pouch from his robes and offering it to her. "Happy Christmas."

Warmth touched Ginny's cheeks. "I didn't get you anything. But ..." Part of her had never minded Draco's propensity to add charms to her bracelet, or his random gifts now and then, but just now she didn't quite know how to take it. She rarely got him anything, but she felt like perhaps she should have. It was Christmas.

Reaching up, Ginny undid the silk ribbon from her hair. The dress had been used and old, but somehow her mum had managed to find an almost-new bit of silk for her. It was the prettiest ribbon she'd ever had and it's what she'd most been looking forward to wearing. The green looked really pretty in her hair.

"Give me your hand."

Draco eyed her warily. She'd been rather put out with him and she was just as likely to bite him as do something nice.

"Just give me your hand, ponce. I'm not going to bite."

"You have before."

"I was five."

"You were vicious."

"Haven't changed much. Now, give me your hand."

He gave her his hand and his head tipped slightly as he watched her tie the green ribbon she'd pulled from her hair around his wrist. It was soft. Maybe her hair was that soft too?

"There." Several wraps and a nice bow. Ginny nodded her head and glanced up at him. "Merry Christmas, Draco."

"It's a ribbon."

"Very observant." Ginny clutched the pouch in her hand. She was curious as to what he'd gotten her this time, but she really did have to go now. The clock was chiming the hour and even though it was a special night, if they were caught, it'd not go well.

Tipping up on her toes, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Don't be a git or a ponce. Have a nice time with your foul parents. Don't kiss poodles anymore. You'll get diseases." Ginny could almost feel his frown and squeezed him once more. "Thank you," she whispered before pulling away and darting down the hall and around the corner.

Draco didn't move for a long time. Not until the scent of rose and strawberries disappeared. It's what she smelled like, he realized, and lifting his wrist, he breathed in. The silk ribbon had been in her hair and still held the scent.

Roses and strawberries. His lips curled slightly. Crooked.

He heard a shuffle down the hall though and straightening, Draco pulled his sleeve down and a smirk slid comfortably into place. Malfoy's didn't smile. That's what everyone else would see. A Malfoy.

Ginny; she got to see Draco. 

 

_**16 June 1996, 2:42 A.M.** _   
_Draco Malfoy - Age 16 | Ginny Weasley - Age 14_

 

His tie was askew, his hair mussed, there were scratches all over his face yet, but Draco's full attention was on Ginny as she slept soundly. It was finally quiet in the Hospital Wing, the horde that was her family having finally left. Longbottom and Loony Lovegood were in beds down the way.

All were wounded to varying degrees from their time at the Department of Mysteries.

The Golden Three were somewhere else. Too good for the hospital everyone else used. Or out breaking rules again. Draco would have scowled, but he couldn't find the energy to.

His father would be in Azkaban by sunrise.

...

_"She's so **horrid** ," Ginny bit out, pacing back and forth. "Toad faced, barmy bint."_

_"Tell us how you really feel," Draco drawled, eyes still fixed on the text in his lap. He wasn't reading though. It was impossible to do anything but focus on Ginny when she was near, especially when she was working her way into a fit. His lips curled slightly._

_"I can't believe Dumbledore brought her in as a bloody **professor**. She's obviously senile. She tried to sentence Harry for **protecting himself from Dementors** ," Ginny hissed, kicking at the door. _

_Draco's eyes narrowed. "Potter deserves everything he gets."_

_Ginny spun on him. "He doesn't deserve to have his soul sucked out no matter the stupid schoolboy feud you have with him and my brother. This is **bigger** than that. Don't you get it? **He's** back." Her voice broke on the last, fear flashing in her eyes before she spun away again. _

_She meant Tom, of course. Voldemort. Were she anyone else, had the topic been any other - Draco would have torn her apart. "Go away, Ginny."_

_"You know," she said, accusation her voice. "You **know** he's back. Draco you have to tell-"_

_"Go away, Ginny." She was a Gryffindor. She didn't get how dangerous information was._

_She glared at him, but not moments later he heard the door slam._

...

Once upon a time he'd just been a boy and she'd just been a girl. They weren't supposed to be friends. That had been half the fun, of course, but then Draco actually liked Ginny. She had always been first. It was wrong, but he was a Malfoy; he got what he wanted when he wanted it.

Or he had.

Everything was different now. Somehow it had all spiraled out of control.

Stirring into movement, Draco brushed her hair back, fingers lightly tucking the ginger strands behind her ear. In the moonlit darkness it was only a neutral dark color. Perhaps if her hair had always been something neutral and dark, they might not be here.

...

_"Michael Corner. Dean Thomas. You do get around. Will I get a taste then, Ginny?" Her latest had been scared off. Thomas. And he called himself a Gryffindor. "Or are you giving away your favors to riff-raff only? Is Potter next?"_

_"It's none of your bloody damn business." She missed him, desperately, but somehow it was beyond them now, beyond even their silly family feud. " **None** of it is your bloody damn business. You're not going to tell me about **Him** , then I'm not going to tell you a thing."_

_It was an old argument, or it seemed that way. "You know what is my business, Ginny? It's my business that you're out after curfew. Ten points from Gryffindor." His eyes narrowed. Roses and Strawberries. Her lips were swollen. "It's also my business that your tie is askew and that your skirt is too short. Twenty points from Gryffindor."_

_"You're nothing," she spat, tears welling. Ginny **hated** that he could make her cry. "You **mean** nothing."_

_"Then why are you crying, Ginevra?" It was satisfying that she was crying. She cared enough still, but a part of him knew this was not how it was supposed to be._

_But she'd chosen her side and he'd chosen his._

_"I hate you." It was nothing more than a whisper, but the next breath was caught, broken, and the tears spilled down her cheeks. "Don't get in my way, Draco. If you want to go down with Tom, then that's your choice. **I'm** not going to give up without a fight." She glared at him through the moisture in her eyes._

...

She didn't realize. She didn't understand. Blood and family, legacy and heritage - it was _all_. Tomorrow's papers would have his father on the front page. The dawn would see his family in shame.

But they would all know. They would all _pay_ for their foolishness.

Draco would see that they did. He was the head of the House of Malfoy now. It was his duty to see glory for their name again, to see his father and mother restored.

Ginny didn't fit there, with him, and never had. His father had warned him all those years ago. Weasleys were paupers, blood traitors.

But he'd kept her for himself. A secret.

His thumb traced over her bottom lip and it was soft beneath the pad of his finger.

...

_"What, Malfoy? Too much of a coward to handle us on your own? Or maybe you just haven't got the stones? For much of anything, I'd wager. I bet you need Crabbe to wank you off, hmm?" It had the desired effect. Ginny watched him flush, watched the true spark of anger light his eyes._

_Her words also had Warrington twisting her arms harder behind her back, but the pain was ignored. Harry and Hermione were on their own with Umbridge, Sirius was in danger and **this was the only way**. Warrington was older, but Draco was in charge here. He had all their wands. _

_Draco stalked across the room and ripped her out of the muscled boy's grasp, man-handling her towards the door. "Crabbe, no, but you'll do just fine," he said, sneer snaking across his features before he shoved her out and slammed the door behind them, the laughter of his housemates and Ron's indignant, angry swearing cut-off abruptly._

_"Draco, give me my wand. I have to go. I can't tell you why, but this is the most important thing I've ever asked you." Ginny didn't take a step near him. There was still anger in his gaze, his wand in hand, and it'd been **so** long since they'd talked. Really talked. She wasn't sure of him anymore. "Someone could die tonight."_

_"I thought I was going down, hmm? Now you're ready to beg for my help." The anger that flashed through her eyes made him feel better. Good. He wanted her to know how it felt. "I'm not going to help you, Ginny. You think I don't know how important everything is? I **know**. It's you who's too foolish to just keep your damn nose out of things. You're going to get **yourself** killed. Can't you just stop following bloody damn **Potter** around? You might survive this."_

_It was more than he'd meant to say, but it didn't matter. She was the only one to hear and she was the only one that had ever really mattered. "Ginny, just stay here. With me."_

_"You know I can't." It wasn't more than a whisper, but he could **feel** the words. The anger was gone from her eyes and all that was there was something bright and desperate. "I can't just let Tom win. You know that."_

_He did. It didn't mean he would just let her go marching to her death. "And you know I can't give you your wand."_

_"I know," she whispered, hands hesitant as she slowly lifted them. Her heart was fluttering, everything inside of her a mayhem of butterflies, adrenalin making her sure and shaky all at once. She had to do this. She ignored the part of her that said she **wanted** to do this. _

_It wasn't until that moment that Draco fully realized how close she'd come, that she was completely inside his guard. But then her hands were resting lightly on his chest and she was looking up at him, lips parted, breathing just a bit fast and Draco was having a very hard time recalling why having her so close was a bad thing._

_Ginny was sure her heart would beat right out of her chest and into his. Before she could think about it longer - **she didn't have time** \- before she could doubt herself, Ginny tip-toed up and pressed her lips to his. _

_He wasn't entirely sure what to think, but then he wasn't really thinking at all, not when she nipped at his lip. No, Draco's thoughts weren't of anything but the gasp that escaped her when he wound a hand into her hair - soft as the silky ribbon she'd once given him, his mind supplied - and tugged her closer, slanted his lips over hers. Part of him had expected it, but another part of him was awed when she opened for him, when she pressed into him, pressed him against the door and **kissed him back**._

_This wasn't how it was supposed to be. The kisses they should have had were supposed to be forbidden, but not because there was a life on the line. It was supposed to be wrong because their parents didn't like each other, not because there were the inklings of a war on the horizon._

_Ginny kissed him with everything it was **supposed** to be, with everything this kiss that had always been theirs **should** have been._

_And then she ripped away from him, her wand pointed in his face. "Let me by, Draco," she said, voice coming in soft pants._

_He should have known. He did know, had known all along._

_Face smoothing out, he straightened. "No."_

_Their eyes met. This was the beginning, and it was the end._

_The hex slipped her lips and the world exploded._

...

The horizon was pink, the light in the Hospital Wing beginning to glow as the sun rose. Madam Pomphrey would be up soon to administer potions to her patients. A night fighting Death Eaters - _his father_ \- in the Department of Mysteries had left the students worse for wear.

But alive.

His fingers traced over her freckles, lighter now than they'd been when they were children. Her skin was warm beneath his touch. He'd watched her sleep through the night, had made sure she saw the dawn. Ginny lived.

And that was all that was left for them. It was more than being a Malfoy and a Weasley now.

Sighing, Draco's shoulders drooped. No one was there to see the weight he wasn't sure he could carry.

"Pauper," he said, voice soft. There was no response, no 'ponce' in flippant return.

And that's the way it would be now. They had each chosen their sides. They were children no more and the world had become something unsafe for anyone but those cunning enough to pick their way through it.

Squaring his shoulders, Malfoy stood and turned to go.

There'd been the kiss, though. That had nothing to do with the children they'd once been.

Turning back, he looked at her face. Peaceful in sleep; beautiful as the morning sun touched her hair, brought colors to it that were unique to her. "Goodbye, Ginny."

His dark robes swished softly as he turned and strode from the room. If something deep inside ached, it was ignored, pushed far and deep. This new world, his new role in it, didn't have room for anything but what must be done.


	2. Chapter 2

  
_**September 1996 - June 1997** _   
_Draco Malfoy - Age 16 | Ginny Weasley - Age 15_

 

Mercury eyes watched the scenery pass by in a blur outside the train's windows. The Hogwarts Express was exactly the same as it'd always been, but somehow completely different. Insignificant now, compared to how grand he'd once thought it as a boy.

Draco's mouth turned down when he caught his compartment's thread of conversation again. Slughorn.

"Potter and Weasley were invited as well, the girl one," Daphne volunteered.

"Potter, precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at ' _the Chosen One_ '," sneered Draco, "but that Weasley girl... what's so bloody special about _her_?" It's what he was supposed to say and just that moment it felt _good_ to smear her name. It was easier to think of all the reasons why he shouldn't be thinking of her than all the reasons why it was impossible not to.

"A lot of boys like her," said Pansy, watching Draco out of the corner of her eyes for his reaction. "Even you think she's good looking, don't you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please."

"I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like," he drawled lazily, flicking at an invisible bit of lint on his perfectly tailored robes.

Draco's gaze shot to Blaise and he fought not to let his reactions show. She was a blood traitor. _He'd_ called her filthy in this group more than once, but he didn't like hearing it from Blaise of all people - Blaise who'd commented more than once on how fit Ginny was.

Ginny was nothing to him now. She couldn't be. They'd chosen their sides and he had a mission to accomplish. He would be the best of them all - _his family_ would be the best again.

"Filthy," he agreed, letting is lids close moments later as Pansy began to pet his hair again.

...

She shouldn't have lingered. She should have just kept on walking.

But Ginny knew that Draco always sat in the same rail car, and she could remember all the years past when they'd sneak about the train for the sport of seeing if they _could_ have a laugh together without getting caught in such a confined area.

He didn't look much like he was inclined for any such sport. Neither was she, to be honest, but after going all summer without hearing from him, she was beginning to wonder what she'd done wrong. Besides snog him and then nearly hex his bollocks off.

Or perhaps he'd just moved on. If the fact that he was laying all over Pansy and letting the bloody bint play with his hair was anything to go by, it hadn't been difficult to do.

She knew she was scowling because a firstie had squeaked when she stalked by, and she could feel the heat of her anger - the _hurt_ \- high in her cheeks.

It was best this way. It _was_. She had made her decision and he had made his. So many of their classmates didn't get it, didn't understand. But she _knew_ he'd entertained Death Eaters and he couldn't be ignorant that her family was embroiled with the Order. It was always going to come to this.

He couldn't matter anymore. He could be nothing to her. He wouldn't.

...

As he strode through The Room of Hidden Things, Draco had a passing thought, not for the first time, that Ginny would love the place. Junk littered every bit of space, but she wouldn't see junk. She would see adventures, a story in every ridiculous knick-knack. She would have spun a tale for every piece.

He missed her.

There were more important things than a childhood friendship that should have never been though, and Draco's brow furrowed as he approached the Vanishing Cabinet. When he pulled the door open, an angry oath echoed through the cavernous room. There was a cage, but only a charred skeleton inhabited it.

He _had_ to figure this damn thing out. _Everything_ depended on it.

...

He didn't look at her. Didn't even meet her eyes.

Dean did though. Dean met her eyes, held her close, kissed her deeply. He said he wanted to date, even, have her be his girl.

It's not how it was supposed to be, but then, nothing was as it should be anymore.

"Ginny?"

"Yeah," she said, forcing the smile into her eyes. Maybe she would believe it too. "Yeah, let’s do it. Let’s be an 'us', huh?"

Dean's smile went crooked. "Us."

...

Malfoy's didn't cry.

Draco did though, and it was a humbling thing, a terribly wretched, horrible and hopeless thing.

He was going to die. Voldemort was going to kill his mother. He would leave his father to rot in Azkaban, or worse, put a Dementor to him - _suck out his soul_.

It should have been his glory. It should have restored their name.

All he had to do was kill Dumbledore. All he had to do was _make the bloody cabinet work_.

And all he was good for was wasting away in the girl’s loo. Useless.

He was going to die and his failure was going to be the death of his family.

...

His hand hurt. Everything hurt, really, but it was the pressure on his hand that made him open his eyes.

"Draco?" Her voice was breathless, raspy. As if she'd been crying.

"Ginny?" He tried to move and stopped. Perhaps waking up had been a bad idea. Everything really did hurt - _because of damn Potter_ , his weary mind supplied.

He sighed, too tired to be angry at the scarhead. It didn't matter anymore. Only one thing mattered. "Go away, Ginny."

"Draco, you can't -" She squeezed his hand harder, not quite aware that she was holding onto him with the same desperate edge that had driven her from Gryffindor Tower to the Hospital Wing when she'd heard what had happened. "You can't honestly want ... _this_ anymore? Draco, you could come with me. I could vouch for you. Can't you see... Draco-"

Ginny's breath caught then, tears in the back of her throat. Couldn't he see that he was wasting away? That choosing what he had was _wrong_ , that it was going to kill him? That's all Tom _was_. Death.

"Draco, come with me," she whispered as she pressed her cheek to his hand, tears escaping. She didn't care. She didn't care that he made her cry anymore. He was slowly losing himself and she cried for him because she _did_ care. What she'd said to Hermione, that Harry had been justified, didn't matter - those were just words, but this, _this_ was real. " _Come with me_."

It was, perhaps, the most enticing thing he'd ever heard. It also made it absolutely dangerous. He couldn't go with her. He couldn't leave his mother. He couldn't leave his father to Voldemort. He _had_ to finish his mission.

"Go away, Ginny." He turned his face away from her and it pulled at newly healed skin - _hurt_ \- but it was nothing to the hollow emptiness echoing through him. He wanted what she offered, he wanted _her_ , more than she would ever know. And she never would know.

"Draco-"

"No," he said, cutting her off. "It's the way it is. I don't _want_ to come with you." Lie. "I can't." Truth. "I don't want you." The lie that would keep her safe.

...

She let him hold her hand. She let him snog her. She let Harry touch her and help her forget. Help her forget Tom and his whispers on the wind, forget Draco and his choices. Choices that were everything but her.

Though, Harry was frighteningly similar. His choices had always been everything but her. It had even slipped his mind he wasn't the only one Tom had possessed. He was self-centered and self-involved.

And yet Ginny didn't care. She would always come behind Ron and Hermione, but he was there. He at least had _chosen_ to be with her, _wanted_ to.

It was how it was supposed to be. Everyone said as much. Ron was terribly pleased, as was her Mum.

She had more of Fred and George in her than any of them had ever truly realized though. She had _never_ been about pleasing them, not since she'd met a surly blond boy at _Flourish & Blotts_.

But Harry didn't mind that she was a ghost and she didn't mind that he was one as well. It was yet another thing they could understand about each other. The kisses were just to remind one another that they were supposed to be alive still, and that it wasn't over. That it had only just begun.

...

Dumbledore was dead.

She couldn't believe it. It couldn't be true, and yet it was a mantra in her head - _Dumbledore dead, Dumbledore dead_ \- timed with her breathing as she raced through the castle. Students were swarming, screaming, crying, confused.

He couldn't be dead. She wouldn't believe it until she saw. He _couldn't_ be. What would they do? Harry ... Harry wasn't ready.

But then all thoughts left her as she met a too-familiar mercury gaze. _Draco_. Draco who was running in the opposite direction of everyone else. Draco who was being pulled along by Snape. Draco ... her eyes widened. Draco who had finally succeeded in getting what he'd chosen over her.

Dumbledore wad dead. Truly.

The bright light of the curses made her start though, made the students scream.

Death Eaters.

Tearing her eyes away from his, she pulled her wand and ran.

  
_**May 2, 1998, 8:22 P.M.** _   
_Draco Malfoy - Age 17 | Ginny Weasley - Age 16_

 

His breath was short as he raced through the castle, senses on high alert for any other bodies. All would think him a target, Auror, Death Eater and Order alike. He could nearly taste his death on his tongue. Perhaps because he’d already come so near it twice this night.

It was an odd time to be reminiscing, to be thinking back on the first time he’d looked at Ginny and wanted her for more than what they’d always been. He recalled it being a singularly odd experience. Prior to that moment, Ginny had been a lark. She’d been a secret friend, something to keep from his parents and housemates, someone who managed to piss him off and make him laugh all at once.

She’d been his.

He should already be dead, was burned and bruised, and yet as he slipped through the passages of Hogwarts towards the Great Hall and the roar of fighting there, Draco couldn’t stop his mind from turning back to that day.

It’d been spring and it’d been sunny. It wasn’t so much that he remembered the weather, but that the light had filtered through Ginny’s hair as she tipped her head back to laugh, and for a moment the ginger strands had lit like a kaleidoscope of color, all shades of auburn, red and gold. He remembered how his heart had sped. When she caught his gaze again, her brown eyes had been bright and full of mischief and he’d noticed for the first time that her lips were prettily pink, that he liked the curve of them when she smiled at him. It had made his skin warm and had chased his thoughts away.

...

_”Draco?” Ginny’s features turned doubtful as she snapped her fingers in his face. “Draco? Where you listening at all?”_

_He blinked, wondering why he’d never noticed the dusting of freckles on her nose, her shoulders too. They had to have been there all along. Things like that didn’t just change, not without some kind of professional spell caster. Draco knew she couldn’t afford such things and he could only reason that not only had the freckles always been there, but the full curve to her bottom lip had always been that way too. He tipped his head._

_“Draco?” She didn’t get it. They’d been laughing about the prank she’d pulled on Zacharias Smith, had been planning another, and then he’d just … She wasn’t even sure. He was looking at her oddly. Intently. Differently than he usually did. “What’s wrong? Do I have something on my face? In my teeth?” she asked, unsure why there was a flutter in her stomach._

_“Hmm?” His gaze shifted to her eyes and he blinked at her again. “What? No… no, you’re fine.” He wasn’t though. He’d just realized she was a girl and was unsure how that changed things._

_Ginny eyed him a long moment before shaking her head. “I think the sun’s gotten to you. All that paleness can’t handle the light of day,” she said, slipping her arm through his and tugging him away from the Shrieking Shack. “We’ll be missed soon, and you should probably get back to the dungeons before you melt in the sunshine.”_

_“Malfoy’s don’t melt,” he said imperiously. “We glisten.”_

_His lips twitched when she giggled softly, the only betrayal of his otherwise impervious façade. Perhaps things wouldn’t change so much after all. She was a girl, but she was still Ginny, too._

...

There were many times after that day when he’d studied the interesting dusting of freckles framed where she unbuttoned her collar and left her tie loose, or admired the way her skirt swished as she walked. That had been back when making her laugh and working her up into an angry, beautiful fit, or both all at a time, had been some of his only concerns.

It seemed a lifetime ago.

The kiss that shouldn't have ever been their first, but was likely to be their only, had been the beginning and the end.

And yet as he stuttered backwards and ducked away when the corner ahead exploded, rock from the walls spraying from some blasting spell that had obviously missed its target, Draco found that it was not only urgency and a certain amount of hopelessness that weighted every footfall, but her. She was the pauper girl, hair the one color that was wrong, the one who had likely changed everything in a labyrinth of choices and consequences he couldn't begin to understand. he was certain of one thing, however. He knew that he was changed, different than his parents and society had intended him to be, and that it was because of her.

Because he loved her.

Because he _loved_ her.

Draco came to a dead stop. He loved her. It'd taken two very near brushes with death, a fist to the face from her damn brother and the imminently real possibility that he wouldn't survive the night for him to realize it.

He raked his hand through his hair, fingers fisting in the blond strands as he bent his head. It was a bloody shite time to figure out he was in love. He should have been dead months ago. His family was in disgrace - he'd nearly been put down by someone who was supposed to be his ally for shite's sake. He couldn't afford to hope.

Swearing under his breath, Draco's fist tightened around his wand and he ran for the Great Hall. It's where the fighting was, and if the increasingly painful burn on his arm was any indication, it's where Voldemort was.

It's where Ginny would be.

...

Draco had seen more horrors in his short life than most people saw in a lifetime. He'd done things that plagued his dreams and the phantoms were never far, even when he was awake. He'd seen torture of all kinds, had used the Cruciatus Curse to pull piercing screams under Voldemort's watchful eye, and had witnessed things that should never be spoken of aloud.

And yet as he fought his way towards the Great Hall against Death Eater, Auror and Order alike, Draco knew that should he survive, the events of this night would haunt him forever.

Lavender Brown was a broken, bloody pile. Dead eyes stared at him from every direction. Screams of pain, torture and agony filled the air. Anger and desperation could almost be tasted, and the hopeless cries of those who knew they would die was a bone-chilling thing.

How he'd made it to the Great Hall he would never know. He was trusted by no one and everyone's enemy, his own light hair as much a beacon as any Weasley's.

It hadn't been difficult to find her. Ginny was life and energy, light. It'd been no wonder that she'd drawn the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange, his frighteningly sadistic aunt who stalked and hunted the interesting prey, the ones who would be missed most desperately when snuffed out.

"Ginny!"

She heard him. _Him_. Draco was alive, he was here, and he was coming for her. "Shite timing," she muttered even as she dodged left, drawing Bellatrix away from Luna. " _Diffindo!_ "

He knew he shouldn't have yelled her name. She could get distracted and distraction here, fighting against his aunt, meant death. And yet as he raced towards her, flinging hexes and curses at anyone who pointed a wand at him, Draco wasn't sure that he _could_ have stopped himself from calling out to her.

This was it. This was everything. This was the end, and if he was going to die, at least he would die _finally_ doing the right thing; loving her.

He was too late though, and he yelled for his aunt to stop even as he watched her lips form the words. _Avada Kedavra_.

No. _No no no_ , Ginny's mind ran in staccato as she moved back, away from the green light coming for her. Not now, not when they'd come so far, not when he was finally coming for her.

The world slowed. He could hear the rush of the spell and nothing else, saw Ginny's eyes widen, knew the part of her lips was an intake of breath, surprise and fear, saw her trip over a bit of debris as she stumbled back and the entirety of his being screamed as she began to fall.

_NO!_

And then the world came back in a rush of sound and explosions of light, spells temporarily blinding him before he was running again. She was alive; tripping over the debris had saved her by millimeters.

Another ginger woman was there then, this one rounder and older, but Draco recognized the fierce look in her features and knew her to be Ginny's mother.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

Molly Weasley had killed his Aunt Bellatrix and Draco watched Ginny's eyes widen, her face go pale, and not moments later he realized why. Voldemort was advancing on her mother. His mark flared painfully and he stumbled, luckily missing a hex from behind, the red light passing over his shoulder. He glanced back, but there were too many to find the source of his attacker and he turned around only to find the impossible to be true.

Harry Potter was alive yet and he was facing Voldemort, wand drawn.

He wasn't the only one to still in shock; he felt the room quiet but for the moans of the dying and injured. It could have been minutes or hours that they circled each other there in the middle of the Great Hall. He only knew that he held his breath with the rest of the wizarding world to see who would be the face of their future.

How it had all truly happened, Draco would never be able to say. All that mattered was the Voldemort died that day. But even that wasn’t as important as the reason he had come to this place, and as he stirred into motion again, Draco’s gray gaze darted quickly over the gathering crowd of jubilant celebrants looking for a mane of ginger hair.

He'd been looking in the wrong places and a moment’s resigned reflection told him he should have known all along. Of course she would be in Harry's arms, hugging him fiercely, nothing but tears and smiles.

He didn't belong here. He didn’t belong with Ginny and never truly had. They should have never been friends in the first place, secret or not. He should have never had opportunity to notice the freckles dusting her shoulders, the constellation of them on the swell of her chest, or the way her cheek began to dimple when she laughed.

Fate had been fickle with them, though, and he did know those things, had had the opportunities, and it stung to see the reality of what had always been intended. Not him, not them, but her and the bloody Boy Who Lived.

His father had always said that Malfoy’s and Weasley’s did not belong. It seemed that even despite the chances of disproving what the world thought possible, everything would be as it ‘should’ be in the end.

She was alive though, and that was all that mattered, had always been what mattered first.

Breath leaving him, his shoulders relaxed into something like defeat and he turned. He didn’t belong here and she was safe; it was time for him to go, to find his parents and to prepare for the very real possibility that he would be going to Azkaban.

Hugs with Harry, Luna, Hermione and Neville had been shared, but she had heard him. She’d heard Draco’s voice, and as she pushed through the crowds, her eyes scanned about for the white blond hair that only Draco had.

And then she saw him walking away. “Draco!” He didn’t turn back. He must not have been able to hear her over all the cheering and yelling, and Ginny only pushed harder, shouldered her way through the next crush of people separating them. “Draco!”

A part of her knew that she shouldn’t be running towards him; theirs had always been a secret friendship, something it hadn’t ever been alright for anyone to know. He was a Malfoy and she was a Weasley. He was a Death Eater and she was part of Dumbledore’s Army. No one would have ever understood, and had anyone known, they would have been torn apart earlier than life and circumstance had seen fit. She would have never known that he had a sense of humor or a generous heart, nor would she have come to love the way his hair looked when he forgot himself and ran his hand through it. She would have never known the depth of loyalty that ran through him, or even the endurance to see his choices through to the end.

Stubbornness, mostly, but she knew now what she hadn’t known before; he’d chosen his family, their _lives_ , over his own. He’d left her and had done what he’d done to save them. She’d had a lot of time to think about it, about him and why he’d left her and with hindsight and time, she’d come to see things differently. He’d lied to her that last night in the Hospital Wing. He hadn’t met her eyes when he’d said he didn’t want to come with her and that he didn’t want to be with her. She should have known then – she’d always been able to read him – but she’d missed it; too scared, too upset, too young to read between the lines.

But she knew now and he had come for her when it counted, and in the end, it was all that really mattered. What people thought, what their families thought, what sides they’d chosen – none of it bloody mattered. They’d _made_ it.

“Draco,” she said again, breathless as she neared him. He must have heard her because he began to turn around, but she didn’t slow or stop or wait to see his face. She ran into him, wrapped around him and made him stumble back with her momentum.

Whatever he’d expected upon hearing his name on her lips, this wasn’t it. He didn’t deserve this, but it didn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in her hair and holding on as if she was the only solid thing left in his world. Maybe she was. Maybe her warmth and the unacknowledged hope of _this_ , her body pressed to his, her scent filling his lungs, the whispers of his name as she began to cry, was the only thing that had ever truly kept him moving forward.

“Ginny.” Malfoy’s didn’t cry. But Draco had never lived up to his name despite his efforts and as she shook against him, he was both horrified and more relieved than he could really understand that his body was shaking with a fine tremor. It was a release he’d been waiting for, and she was the only place that was truly safe. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, shifting to speak against her ear. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I’m _so sorry_.”

“I know,” she said, pulling back enough to look up at him. Ginny was aware they were drawing attention now, but she couldn’t find it in her to care. Too much had happened and they’d come too far now for any of that to matter. “I know.” Her face crumpled then, tears rolling down her skin. “Fred died. Draco, he’s gone.”

He raised his hands to cup her face, thumbs brushing at the tears. Watching her cry, feeling her shake as she held onto him yet, made keeping the moisture glistening in his own eyes from falling more difficult. It broke him in a way he didn’t fully understand, to see her like this. “I’m sorry, Ginny.” He would say it forever, over and over if he had to, to make up for everything. He would live a life of repentance if it would help chase away the haunted look in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She was crying, body shaking with it, and yet seeing him look at her like that, about to fall over the edge himself, moved something in her and before she could think about it, Ginny shifted her hands to his chest, fisted her fingers in his shirt and tip-toed up to press her lips to his. Tears coated her skin and she was yet crying, but he held on to her just as tightly, kissed her as deeply as she was straining to kiss him.

It still wasn’t the kiss that they should have had. It was a kiss brought about in the wake of death and pain, but it wasn’t the end. This kiss was the beginning. It would change everything. It was hope.

  
_**September 12, 2001, 1:17 P.M.** _   
_Draco Malfoy - Age 21 | Ginny Weasley – Age 20_

 

The bell on the door jingled as Draco stepped into _Flourish & Blotts_. Sliding off his sunglasses, he waited a moment as his vision adjusted; it was yet warm and bright outside despite that fall was fast approaching. He knew she would be here though. Harpies practice would have ended over an hour prior and he knew this was her usual haunt, especially at this time of year. She always seemed to be nostalgic for their early days at Hogwarts in the fall and the book store smelled faintly of the school’s library; ink and parchment.

It was odd the things one thought at such times as these, though Draco wasn’t unfamiliar with the phenomena of out-of-place memories surfacing when life was about to change. Perhaps his mind’s own way of reminding him of what was truly essential. Given that most of his memories always came back to Ginny, to her smile, her laugh, the way she kissed him as if he was her air, Draco didn’t much mind and in this particular case, it only served to affirm what he had decided to do.

His lips twitched when he caught sight of two small girls peeking down one of the aisles.

“Mary, that _has_ to be her. She’s got _ginger_ hair.”

“Lots of people have ginger hair. It doesn’t mean it’s her.”

“She’s got a broom, too, and she’s wearing a _Harpies_ jumper.”

“Very astute,” Draco said, mercury gaze lighting with amusement when they squeaked and turned to look up at him with wide eyes. “Ginger hair, broom, Harpie’s jumper. Definitely Ginny Weasley,” he said, lips twitching again.

Their breath caught and they turned back around, sneaking a look around the corner and down the aisle. “It’s _her_ , Mary. It’s _really_ her.”

“I’m sure you could say hello,” Draco said. Ginny was looking at him now, and even as he spoke to the dynamic little duo, his brow rose slightly as his lips curved. “I hear she’s very nice.”

He followed after them as they scurried down the aisle to speak to her, chattering about how she was the best Chaser ever, and could she maybe come to their birthday party? Draco had nearly laughed aloud, but Ginny had shot him a look and he kept his peace.

Only when a woman who must have one of their mother’s came to collect them was Draco able to turn all his focus on Ginny. Her eyes were bright and there was color high in her cheeks. She was beautiful and his heart sped at the sight of her.

“What’s that you’ve got?” he asked, nodding towards the book she’d set down.

Ginny raised a brow at him, suspicious as she picked up the book and held it out to him. It wasn’t odd for Draco to track her down here, but there was something going on. She could tell. There was the slightest pink tint high on his cheeks, his gray eyes were just a little too bright and he was looking at her as if she held the secrets of the universe, though there was something else there too. A bit of amusement, maybe, but _more_.

“It’s just a text on unicorns,” she said cautiously, eyes narrowed at him. “What are you up to then?”

Draco grinned. “Always the bloody unicorns. I rather like dragons myself.”

Despite her suspicions, Ginny’s lips turned up at the edges. She remembered this conversation; they’d had it many times as children. “That’s because you’re a ponce,” she said, leaning into him then and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I suppose I shall forgive you the flaw, though.”

“Forgiven by a pauper. My life is now complete,” he said dryly, though his hand slipped under her jumper to press at the base of her spine.

“As it should be,” she murmured, eyes bright with humor.

“Hmm,” he hummed doubtfully. His heart sped and blood rushed beneath his skin. Now. It was now. “Have you got your bracelet?”

“Yeah, did you find another charm?” she asked, already pulling away enough to unclip the silver thing, the charms jingled merrily against one another. “I don’t know how we’ll fit another on.” She finally released the catch and held it out to him. “The last one was quite a challenge. I do believe every link is taken up, though do feel free to try.”

“Actually, this one can be worn elsewhere,” he said, taking the bracelet from her and carefully clipping it back on her wrist.

A delicate frown pulled between her brows. “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten a necklace. I am not wearing a damn necklace. This thing is gaudy enough as it is. It _jingles_ , Draco.”

His lips twitched. “It’s not a necklace and I promise it won’t jingle.” He slipped his hand into his pocket then and pulled out a small leather pouch. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear his heart had stopped.

Ginny’s eyes followed his hands, curious. He’d always gotten her gifts, but this one promised to be different from the rest. It was only a brief sleight of hand that emptied the contents of the tiny pouch and her eyes went wide when she saw what it was. “Draco?”

“Yes, that’s what it is, Ginny.”

Her gaze shifted to his. It shouldn’t have been surprising. They’d been together since the Battle of Hogwarts to the displeasure of their families. Still, she was shocked. “Draco …”

“Ginny, will you marry me?” he asked, half fearing everyone in the damn shop could hear the raucous, uneven beat of his heart as he watched a plethora of emotions pass over her face, none of them particularly encouraging. “I’ve already asked your father. I even talked to Ron. We’ve … well, he didn’t hit me. I figured that was the best I would get.”

He was babbling. Malfoy’s didn’t babble. He’d always been something of a shite Malfoy, but for shite’s sake, Draco didn’t natter either. He shut up.

She blinked at him a few times and then a giggle slipped from her, then several more until she was laughing. Draco was looking at her, eyes a little wild, and she snatched the ring from him and slid it on the proper finger before throwing her arms around him. “Of course I’ll marry you,” she said, laughter beginning to subside now.

Her eyes were merry and bright. “You realize we won’t be the Ponce and the Pauper anymore, yeah?”

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” he returned, a mix of relief and elation snaking through his veins as he lifted his hands to run them through her hair.

“It’s why you love me,” she said, tip-toeing up moments later to brush her lips to his.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, “though it’s not why I decided to keep you forever.” His lips curled into a devious smirk. “You are rather good in bed.”

“Poncy git.”

“I love you,” he returned, grinning now at the look she was giving him. He sobered moments later though, and when he caught her gaze, his own was intently earnest. “Forever?”

“Yeah,” she said, features softening. This had always been where they were headed, from the moment he had snatched her hand and dragged her off to get her scuffed shoes fixed. They had been to hell and back, had turned every family and societal expectation upside down. They were the each other’s only exception.

She smiled up at him, eyes crinkling at the corners and her voice was soft as she said, “Yeah, forever.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _The Only Exception_ won an award for _Best Kiss_ , and lost _Best Fic Overall_ by one vote. It was also nominated for _Best Angst_ , _Best Portrayal of Draco Malfoy_ , _Best Portrayal of Ginny Weasley_ , _Favorite Line_ and _Snarkiest Conversation_. To everyone that nominated and voted for me, thank you SO much!!! *smooshes!*
> 
> Profuse thanks go to all the women who helped me put this together; it took a team to make this happen. Thank you kateinva for being such a great sounding board and holding my hand every step of the way. Thank you fiery_flamingo for your grammar picking and for telling me when something sucked and needed to be fixed. And as always, thanks go to amazonmink and silverstardance, both of who check everything I write before it sees the light of day.


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